As I was trying to get ready to walk out the door this morning, I was asked repeatedly by my daughter if she could write my name. Never mind the fact that she’s two years old, and her concept of writing has less to do with conveying meaning and more to do with just trying to be like her big brother. The awkward way she held the marker and her tiny chicken scratch said everything they needed to.
Read more about December Photo Project.
If you enjoy reading Opus and want to support my writing, become a subscriber for $5/month or $50/year.Subscribe Today